


Charcoal Fingertips

by inanis_mortem



Series: FicTober 2018 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 17:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16179977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanis_mortem/pseuds/inanis_mortem
Summary: Fictober Day Two: "People like you have no imagination."





	Charcoal Fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> I would die for Lewyn and Finn

“What are you drawing?” Finn stares suspiciously at Lewyn as the bard grins at him in response, both of them halting in their actions. Lewyn offers no response as he props his head on one hand, charcoal spinning in the other, fingertips blackened. They lock gazes, Lewyn’s light and playful one against Finn’s serious one before Finn goes back to polishing his spear, shaking his head in resignation. 

The charcoal resumes its scratching on Lewyn’s paper and Finn hears the rasp of Lewyn’s fingertips brushing against the smooth surface. He looks up again but Lewyn only shifts deceptively, clicking his tongue scoldingly and Finn figures he’ll have to get up if he wants a chance at seeing what Lewyn is working on. Not worth the effort though.

Lewyn’ll choose to be cryptic when he wants to be and nothing, not even Finn can change that. 

“Can I get a hint? Please,” he adds as an afterthought, rubbing a little harder than usual at Lewyn’s chuckle followed by a playful “Nope!” as the bard rolls his n and pops his p. “There’s nothing to draw around here,” Finn continues, flipping his spear to the other side, rolling his eyes when Lewyn chews the tip of his finger instinctively before the taste of charcoal hits him and he’s spitting for at least ten seconds. 

“People like you have no imagination,” Lewyn teases, his eyes darting up to Finn’s face again before he scribbles more vigorously. “Take a guess.”

Finn doesn’t, watching Lewyn more carefully now, his hands stilling on his spear as he watches Lewyn’s eyes flicker to him again before there’s more detail added. Finn thinks. And thinks a bit more. And then it hits him like his crush on Lewyn did. Hard. “Are you drawing  _ me _ ?” 

Lewyn doesn’t give a response, at least not verbally but the gleeful smile that spreads across his face is enough for Finn and Finn… doesn’t think he can get more red as his face heats up and he opens and shuts his mouth soundlessly. 

“Sh. Show,” Finn finally demands as much as he can when he recovers his voice, making a move to stand before Lewyn snaps his sketchbook shut, binding it with magic to deter any attempts of getting into it when he’s not around before wagging his finger at Finn. “Le-” Finn starts before he cuts himself off, accepting the battle’s been lost before it’s even begun.

“I’ll show you when I’m done cleaning it up,” Lewyn tells him, smiling angelically as he walks towards Finn. Crouching down in front of him, Finn doesn’t miss the mischievous twinkle in Lewyn’s eyes. “Next time okay?” 

He pats Finn’s shoulder before running his fingertips over Finn’s spear as Finn nods wordlessly. Lewyn beams at him and walks off, whistling a cheerful tune and Finn lets out a breathe he didn’t know he’s been holding, staring down at his spear, relieved for all of two seconds before he realizes that Lewyn has left streaks to charcoal across the newly polished section. 

Ah. The urge to murder has never been strong in Finn but. Exceptions. Lewyn seems to be every single one of them.


End file.
